


Rock You Like a Hurricane~ An Interlude

by vernie_klein



Series: Like the Heart Goes [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A timestamp to Like the Heart Goes, Flashback, Let's have an Interlude, M/M, Okay- Really Part Seventeen, Part Sixteen point five in the Series, Pre-Series, smut between Dean and OMC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 11:11:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4826915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vernie_klein/pseuds/vernie_klein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Part Seventeen in the Series</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A flashback to Dean's time with Greg. Cause I wanted to tell this story.  </p><p> </p><p>  <i>This is the story of Sam and Dean Winchester. Not the story we've seen played out on our television screens a million times, but the story of what happened to get them to where they are today. The story of two brother's souls, so tightly woven together, that neither can be whole.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Rock You Like a Hurricane~ An Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy this interlude. Or Timestamp. I love it.
> 
>  _Rock You Like a Hurricane_ was written by Rudolf Schenker, Klaus Meine, and Herman Rarebell performed by Scorpions
> 
> Not beta'd, mistakes are mine.

**Rock You Like a Hurricane  
** A Flashback Interlude  
Dean and Greg 

****17 November 2002****

Dean pulled his leather jacket tighter around his chest. The weather had become unseasonably cold for Georgia this time of year. He glanced both ways to make sure that no cars were coming and stepped out onto the road. This was the first Hunt John had sent him on alone and he wasn’t about to fuck it up by getting hit by a car.

Dean walked briskly across the street and stepped onto the sidewalk. He figured the local coffee house would be a good place to discreetly find out information about the Wendigo he was Hunting. At twenty-three, he was still too baby faced to be taken seriously as an FBI Agent. It was easier with John. He could take the Lead Agent persona and Dean was the newbie he was taking out on the case to show the ropes, but there is _no way_ anyone would believe that he was old enough to be on a solo case. He stepped into the coffee shop _and_ because he wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing- right into another person.

“Sorry.” Dean stated into the guy’s shoulder.

The other guy laughed and put his _meat hook_ of a hand on Dean’s arm. “It’s okay, brother. No harm, no foul.”

Dean looked up into the other man’s face. He was about three inches taller than Dean and a _lot_ broader. His face was tanned and slightly weathered. Dean thought he had the _prettiest_ blue-grey eyes… “Um…” Dean ducked his head and blushed. “Southern Hospitality says I should buy you a new drink.”

Dean gestured to the half full coffee in the other man’s hand. The remainder of the cup was currently gracing the floor with it’s presence. He raised his eyebrows and smiled shyly. Dean _really_ hoped the guy would take him up on his offer. Even if he wasn’t gay, he would make great spank bank material.

The other guy squeezed the bicep he still held on to and smiled. Dean realised he had a smile that rivaled Sam’s. It lit up the room with a million Suns. “It’s not necessary.” Dean’s face dropped. “But it surely is welcome.”

Dean nodded and stood a little straighter. The guy still had his hand on Dean’s arm and they were _still_ blocking the exit door. Dean raised an eyebrow and whipped out his cockiest grin.

“Oh… Sorry! We should- It’s just you’re- And I-” The other man stammered. Dean found it adorable- but don’t tell anyone. Dean just about whimpered at the loss of heat on his arm. “We should-”

Dean nodded and headed to the counter. He didn’t wait to see if the guy would follow. Dean wanted to appear confident. It was always hard around guys. He could be suave, cocky even with the ladies and they would eat right out of his hand. Dudes on the other hand- they didn’t want a cocky lover, or a simper pot. But, most did want someone confident. Dean was far from inexperienced with guys. He knew what a guy looked for in a good time. He could be shy, but confident. This guy seemed to like his slight shyness. 

“What can I get ya, hun?” The Barista smiled. She was pretty. Blonde, big breasted- the kinda girl Dean would be on if he was looking for that. Not that he _wasn’t_ looking for that, but sometimes, he _needed_ a man to get him there.

“ _I_ will take a dark roast- black. And my friend here…. Well, I’m buying whatever he’s drinking. Oh- and your floor needs a good mop. Sorry.”

“No problem. I’ll get Hank on it.” She turned slightly to face the back and hollered. “Hank! Get your Yankee ass out here and mop the freakin’ floor! And don’t make me tell ya twice!”

Dean raised his eyebrows and turned to the guy. He was chuckling softly and shaking his head. Dean watched as _Hank_ came out from the back room with a mop and bucket. Dean guessed him to be about thirty or so. He was a big dude- Linebacker sized, burly without being overly flabby with hands that could probably engulf Dean’s head. Hank had to be about 6’ 7”. Dean raised an eyebrow at the Barista.

“Oh, Hank?” She answered the silent question. “He’s my half-brother. Same dad. He’s on IR with the Falcons right now and needed something to do.”

“Hank Johns? Three time Pro Bowl Defensive End, Hank Johns?” Dean squeaked.

“The one and only.” Hank stepped up to Dean. He held out a hand. Dean took it and marvelled at his hand disappearing as it was shook. “I see you’ve met our resident _artist_....”

Dean nodded. He still didn’t know guy’s name. Dean wagged his eyebrows and Hank laughed. “So… Are you a fan?”

Dean smiled. “Sure… of the Cowboys.”

“Oh…. BURN!” Hank’s sister yelled.

Hank smiled and dropped his hand. He chuckled slightly. “Texas boy?”

“Kansas.”

“Least he’s not a _Yankee_.” The Barista smiled.

Dean held his hand out to Hank again. “We weren’t formally introduced. Winchester. Dean Winchester.” Dean realised at the last second that he gave his _real_ last name. _Fuck_. No taking it back now. He smiled as Hank warmly shook his hand back. “Hank Johns. But, I guess you already knew that.”

“No, not really. But, you guys look _bigger_ in real life.” Dean chuckled.

“True. _That_ is my littlest sister- Athena. You’ll have to pardon her. She _may_ have been born and raised here in Crawford, but she _sure_ didn’t get any Southern Belle grace.”

“Hey! I resent that.” Athena chuckled as she slid Dean’s black coffee and guys- latte maybe, across the counter. “My momma _taught_ me manners.”

“Yeah, and my momma died when I was a baby.” Hank answered back.

Dean paled.

“You don’t know that. Maybe your momma ran away and joined the circus ‘cause she couldn’t stand your ugly mug.”

“Yeah, well your momma was born in the swamp. She’s got no teeth and crooked legs.”

Dean felt a hand on his lower back and a hot breath in his ear. He tried very hard to stand still against the onslaught of _want_ and _need_ that flooded his system. “His momma’s not dead by the way, she’s an Attorney in California. And her momma wasn’t born in a swamp. Sure, she’s from New Orleans.” He pronounced it _Nawlens_. Dean almost swooned. “Names Greg, just so you know…. Dean.”

Dean’s knees nearly buckled. He had to stay focused, but if that guy- _Greg_ , wasn’t flirting… Dean would sell the Impala. Dean turned slightly and Greg’s lips brushed his cheek. Dean knew he was flushed, but right now he didn’t care. “Why don’t we get these to go and get to know each other better?” Dean felt Greg’s arm tighten around his waist.

“Now, Mr Winchester…. I do _declare_ that is the best suggestion I have heard all day.” Greg chuckled and pulled his head back slightly to whisper directly into Dean’s ear. “I live just a few doors down. Walk with me?”

Dean nodded and grabbed their coffees. They were in ceramic mugs and Dean looked around in vain trying to locate paper to go cups. “Just take ‘em with you. I’m here twice a day anyway. I’ll bring ‘em with next time.” Greg smiled and turned toward the still bickering siblings. “Takin’ our leave now. Don’t kill each other!”

Athena waved him off and went back to bickering with her brother. “Just be aware that though Hank _has_ the mop and bucket, he still hasn’t cleaned up my coffee.”

Dean grimaced and stepped around the puddle. “I really am sorry. Don’t know exactly where my brain was.”

“No harm. I just hope it was somewhere good.” Greg held open the door for Dean’s full hands. 

“To tell you the truth? Not really.” Dean shook his head. “Crazy shit really.”

Dean handed over Greg’s coffee and their fingers brushed from the contact. Dean felt that familiar flutter in his abdomen from the contact. “You a reporter? I’ve never seen you ‘round these parts.” They started down the Magnolia-lined street. Dean pondered what to tell him.

“Well, I’m looking into the recent rash of disappearances and half-eaten bodies. Heard there was some crazy fucking shit going down. I’ve got a particular set of skills….”

“A man of mystery. I like. I on the other hand am boring. But, I know this town like the back of my hand. Been here for a year now. People come to my place- they talk.”

Dean paled. This guy- Greg was obviously older than him. Close to thirty, and even though Dean could take a guy out with his feet bound and his hands tied, that didn’t mean he never got nervous. He just covered it with cockiness. They walked down a short path lined with butterfly flowers and up a few stairs to a porch. Greg smiled at Dean and pulled a key ring from his pocket. He opened the door and flicked on the light. Dean stepped inside the room and chuckled. _This_ was obviously why people talked. Greg wasn’t some _hooker_ or crazy person- well, he still could end up being crazy. Dean would take his chances. But this? Dean shook his head.

“Welcome to my humble establishment. _The Drawing Room_. We’ve been open for a little over a year now. Best little tattoo parlour in Georgia.”

Dean looked around- really looked. It was nice. Original works of art graced the walls. Flash art was displayed on one of those flippy poster things that they had at Spencer’s at the Mall. Dean spotted an antique register at the counter with a sign that simply said _I did the time… Now, you pay the fine._ Dean’s eyes however, were drawn to a metal sculpture in front of the lowback couch that he assumed was the waiting area. Dean knew that it was being used as a coffee table, but it was so much more. Steampunk meets _I, Robot_ meets Modern Art. There was a glass top on it showing off all the gears- that actually moved! Dean made out LEDs and what looked like metal skulls. He whistled lowly. 

“She’s a beaut. Where’d you get ‘er?” Dean moved toward the piece to look closer.

“Made her myself.” Greg announced like a proud papa showing off his newborn.

Dean stopped and turned around to face the artist. “You made this? This- This… is fuckin’ _awesome_!”

“Ah… It’s nothing.” Greg blushed.

“Nothing?” Dean set his coffee mug on the floor next to the piece. It was too beautiful to mar up with cup rings. He stepped up into Greg’s personal space and put his hands on Greg’s hips. “Nothing? This deserves to be in the Met. No- Seriously. It’s good.”

“Well, I did spend six years in Engineering school at Georgia Tech… Built _and_ fixed aeroplanes for another five. Everything on it works. That’s the Engineer in me. The aesthetic? _That’s_ the artist.”

“Well, I think.” Dean leaned in closer and smirked as Greg swallowed nervously. “I think it’s the second most beautiful thing I’ve see in my life.”

“And the first?” Greg whispered as Dean’s hot breath ghosted over his jaw.

“I think you _know_ what the first is.” Dean whispered back. And he meant it. Greg was over six feet of stocky, burly goodness. Covered in tattoos and draped in sin.

He leaned forward and up, capturing Greg’s lips with his own. They were soft and pliable. Dean opened his mouth slightly and snaked his tongue into the older man’s mouth. The kiss had heat- not smoldering passion, but that wasn’t what Dean had been going for. He tightened his grip on Greg’s waist and groaned as Greg’s obvious erection brushed against his own. Dean wanted nothing more than to have Greg be balls deep in his ass, but he wanted this to be more than a one night stand. Dean moaned as Greg deepened the kiss and wrapped his one free hand around Dean. 

“Shit.” Dean pulled away.

“What darlin’?” Greg cocked his head and scrunched up his eyebrows. Dean found it adorable. 

“Coffee?” Dean answered as if it solved all of the world’s problems.

Greg huffed and pulled back. Dean bit off a whimper at the loss of contact. “Coffee? Really? You would rather drink your coffee than make out with me? Your _free_ coffee?”

Dean opened and closed his mouth. Finally his brain got on the same page. “No! No- I- _Your_ coffee. It’s still in your hand.” Dean gestured to the ceramic mug in Greg’s hand. “I just thought that we could- You know… do _more_ if you had your hands free.”

Greg threw his head back and laughed. “I- It’s-” Greg walked over to the coffee table and set his cup on the glass. He picked Dean’s up from the hardwood floor and set it next to the first. Greg grabbed Dean’s hand and pulled his toward a door at the end of the hallway. “Normally, I would go through the house entrance, but I really wanted to show you the shop. Do you have any tattoos, Dean?”

Dean nodded as Greg pulled him through the door and up the stairs. He pushed Dean’s leather jacket off and let it fall back down toward the hallway. Greg gasped as he took in Dean’s full sleeves. He pushed and pulled at Dean’s shirt and hitched it up to his armpits. Greg stepped down a few steps and planted open mouthed kisses across Dean’s abdomen. Dean whipped his shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor. Greg pushed Dean up the stairs further and into the wall. He claimed Dean’s mouth with a brutal kiss, his fingers working Dean’s belt and unbuttoning his pants. Dean let his boxers and pants fall to the floor. Greg wrapped his fingers around Dean’s aching erection and teased the velvety flesh. He whimpered as Greg fell to his knees and engulfed Dean’s cock in one full movement. Dean’s hands automatically went to Greg’s hair and twisted. 

“Harder.” Dean moaned. Greg reached around and grabbed Dean’s ass cheeks. He cried out as Greg pushed and pulled Dean in to fuck his mouth. Dean felt his balls draw up as Greg swallowed around him. If he could have put together a coherent thought, he would have realised that Greg’s nose was nestled completely against Dean’s short cropped bush. Dean’s abdomen fluttered and he didn’t know how much longer he could take it. He felt the spit and precome run out of Greg’s mouth and onto his balls.

Dean cried in pleasure and tightened his hold on Greg’s hair. “I’m- Greg… So close.”

Greg sped up his deep throating. He hummed and swallowed in alternating breaths. Dean tried his hardest to push Greg away as he felt his orgasm speeding like a runaway freight train. “Greg…”

Greg pulled Dean as close as possible and began swallowing to stimulate Dean. He moved a hand to Dean’s hole and jammed a dry finger into his ass. Dean screamed and thrust further into Greg’s mouth as his orgasm tore from his body. Dean’s body shook from the aftershocks, he released Greg’s hair and cried out. “Greg! St-stop… Can’t- I can’t-”

Greg released Dean’s cock with a soft _pop_. He licked his lips and smirked. “So… worth it?”

Dean’s knees gave out and he slid to the floor. He smiled at Greg and leaned forward to capture the older man in a gentle kiss. Dean licked the taste of himself out of Greg’s mouth and sighed. He broke off the kiss and rested his forehead against Greg’s soft cotton shirt.

“Do you-” Dean reached down and felt a wet spot on the front of Greg’s jeans. “Oh- I guess not.”

“Naw…. That was so hot, darling.” Greg smiled and placed a chaste kiss on Dean’s lips. “Do you want to stay?”

Dean studied Greg for a minute. Did he want to stay? Hell yeah. Did he show his hand this early _ever_? Of course not.”

“I’d have to get my Baby.” Dean stated matter of factly.

“Um… You left your baby somewhere?” Greg began to pull away.

“Yeah. Down the street. My ‘67 Chevy Impala. My Baby.” Dean laughed. “Oh my God… Did you think I was talking about a _real_ baby?”

Greg stood and held out his hands for Dean to grab. He glared at Dean and shook his head in disbelief as Dean pulled counter to Greg to stand up.

“What? You did, didn’t you?” Dean chided. “It’s okay. I get that look from most people. Baby’s real special. The only _woman_ I need in my life.”

Greg flashed Dean one of those _million Sun_ smiles. “Well then, let me change my britches. I don’t suspect we should keep the little lady waiting.”

**xxx**

“Dean… Could you grab the door?” Greg was trying to juggle two armloads of groceries. Dean grabbed the door and rolled his eyes. They had been _trying_ to prepare to have friends over for a barbeque. Yes… Dean Winchester had friends. Sure, he had to kinda lie to them about what he did. Greg was still the only one who knew. The past ten months had been a learning experience. John thought Dean was travelling the South, Hunting- and he was, kinda. He Hunted often, but always tried to be home every week. Yes, home. Dean finally felt he could have the best of both worlds. Hunting and Living. Greg was a great partner. He was very understanding.

Dean thought back to that night when he met Greg. They had explosive chemistry. Greg was no Hunter, but he was smart as a whip. What he lacked in Sam’s eidetic memory, he made up in his thought process. Sam could regurgitate facts, but he still lacked the practical knowledge to put it all together. Greg, on the other hand- he may need to research a little longer, but he could put things together that Dean never would have considered. A Hunt that may have taken Dean a week by himself, took him two days with Greg’s help. Dean hadn’t wanted to leave. There was something about Greg. Well, that and Greg had plans for the empty space on Dean’s upper back. Dean had thought the idea of having two long barrelled Winchester M1887 shotguns was a great nod to his family name. Dean knew the M1887 like the back of his hand. The first truly successful repeating shotgun, it was a lever action, breech loading 10 gauge. A black powder gun, it couldn’t handle the powerful propellants of today’s shotguns, but it was a beauty. Dean had one tucked away in the deepest recesses of Baby’s trunk. It was his pride and joy. John thought he should sell it for quick cash as the gun was easily worth five or six grand. Dean wasn’t like John, he didn’t live hustle to hustle. But then again, John probably hadn’t turned to his mouth to make money. In Dean’s defence, he hadn’t had to sell himself for a few years now. John may be able to live on credit card scams, but Dean never carried less than a grand on him. _Ever_. It was still true now of course, Dean wouldn’t hustle pool or darts so close to home- no, he did it on the road, on a Hunt. He saved money by not getting a motel room unless it was necessary. The back seat of Baby was good enough for him. He helped Greg out in the Parlour when he was home. Dean was in charge of scheduling. Not that Greg needed a lot of help there. He didn’t take walk-ins and appointments had to be booked months in advance, with most work needing a full 100% deposit to even guarantee an appointment. Greg only worked three days a week, but he commanded _thousands_ for the chance to have his work on your body. Dean had a few Greg Lubois pieces now. His shotguns, the Dread Pirate Roberts ship from The Princess Bride- complete with the words _As You Wish_ on one of the sails, The cover of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon graced his right hip. He had Greg touch up his hibiscus sleeve, the colours had faded from inferior inks. Dean told Greg of his other tattoo plans and of course he wanted to take them all on. The only problem was Dean. He knew the man’s worth and of course never wanted to take advantage. Greg saw things differently, but Dean insisted. 

A few months into their relationship, Dean got a call from Bobby. Him and Rufus were headed Dean’s way. A Hoodoo case down in the Bayou of Louisiana. Dean hadn’t felt ready to take it on himself. It was a good thing that Bobby decided to take care of it. Bobby thought Greg took good care of Dean. They took a liking to each other immediately. Bobby told Dean after that successful Hunt that he was planning on relying on Greg in the future. And he did. Since then, Bobby had called Greg three or four times to make connections he couldn’t see.

Dean turned to his… partner? Lover? Boyfriend? Dean hated labels. He turned to his Greg and smiled.

“Hey. I heard from Sam today.” 

Greg sat the twelve pack of microbrews on the counter and smiled back. Dean _still_ loved that smile. “Really? What’s he up to?”

Dean pulled the brats from the fridge and put them in a shallow pan to go into the oven. He would finish them on the grill tonight. “Well, he just got back from spending the summer with his roommate Brady and his family in the Hamptons. School started this week and he is looking forward to his sophomore year. He wanted to tell me about his plans for Thanksgiving. He’s going with Brady to San Diego, since John doesn’t talk to him and I don’t really have a-”

“If you say one more time that you don’t have a home, Dean…” Greg narrowed his eyes.

“I know, I know.” Dean responded flippantly. “You’ll make sure I _don’t_ have a home.”

“Well it’s true.” Greg walked up to Dean and wrapped his arms around him. Dean smiled at the touch. “You need to be accepting, Dean. Just like Sonny was when you were sixteen. The only thing stopping you from staying is you.”

“That was different, Greg. John needed me. He-”

“Your daddy didn’t need you or he wouldn’t have left you. Sam was what? Twelve?” Dean nodded. “And he stayed at Bobby’s, right?”

“Yeah, until school was out. Or- almost out as John pulled him a few weeks early.”

“So, did you leave because your _daddy_ needed you? Or for Sam?”

Dean knew the answer to that. So did Greg. As much as Dean _cared_ about Greg… as much as Dean _loved_ Greg… He would love Sam more. Always. Dean felt Greg lean forward and brush his lips over the shell of his ear. Greg’s hot breath ghosted over his skin and Dean shivered. Greg pulled his closer and whispered. “I love you, cher. Always will. I know that Sam holds your heart. I respect that. And I will never think less of you for walkin’ away to him. You understand?”

Dean nodded and leaned back against Greg’s broad chest. Things may not be ideal, but Dean had a partner who loved him, a great group of friends and a roof over his head. He knew the other shoe was going to drop. He just wasn’t prepared for it to happen so soon.

**xxx**

Dean rolled over and snuggled up against Greg’s sun warmed skin. They had stayed up late the night before with friends for a late summer party. After everyone had left for the night, Dean and Greg had their _own_ party in their king-sized bed, the remnants of their coupling still clinging to Dean’s thighs. Greg didn’t have any appointments and Dean didn’t need to be anywhere, so he figured they could maybe go for a _round two_ after Greg woke. Dean was roused from his thoughts by the shrill ring of his cell phone.

Dean blinked his eyes and rolled over to swat his phone. He didn’t figure it would be Sam, and most of their mutual friends had a different number for him. Dean groaned as the phone continued to ring. He flipped open the phone without looking to see who it was. “Sammy… You’d better not be out of money. It costs an arm and a fuckin’ _leg_ to Western Union you funds.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Dean?” A gruff voice came over the line. Dean damn near dropped the phone at the sound of that whisky rough voice- one that was certainly _not_ his brother’s. Dean finally straightened up in bed.

“Sir?” He stated in answer to John’s question.

“I have been banging on this door for a half hour, boy. Why aren’t you answering? I know you’re there. The Impala is in the driveway.”

Dean flipped up from the bed like a rocket, the blanket sliding off the bed onto the floor, exposing Greg’s nakedness to the world. He looked around for a pair of underwear, rooting through the top dresser drawer. His hand made contact with a pair of Greg’s bikinis and Dean yanked and pulled them on.

“Boy, you’d better have a good reason-”

Dean covered the mouthpiece of his phone and pushed at Greg. “Babe. Get up.”

Greg rolled over and Dean smiled, his panic temporarily forgotten. Greg’s sun-kissed skin glistened in the light from the floor to ceiling windows that looked out over their fenced in backyard. Dean normally closed the curtains, but last night had been breezy, and it cut through the Georgia mugginess. He could hear the faint pounding of John at the shop door and mouthed _Shit_. 

“Greg. My- _John_ is here. How he _found_ here, I don’t know.” Dean could hear John yelling at him through the phone receiver.

“Dean. Calm down.” Greg stood and casually walked to the dresser. He pulled out a pair of underwear and two pairs of shorts. He passed one to Dean and pulled on the other. “Let’s go greet your father. Have some coffee. Tell him you’ll be there in a moment.”

Dean took a deep breath and put the phone back to his ear. “Dad. I’ll be there in a minute.” 

“You have til-”

“Dad, I get it. But you’re not at a door to the house. That’s Greg’s business door.” Dean started toward the stairs and the hallway that would take him to the shop.

“Who’s Greg?”

“Dad. I’ll be there in a _minute_.” Dean rolled his eyes and closed his phone. He turned to Greg. “I swear. I’m not really sure what we should or shouldn’t say. I just- This is good and I worry he’s gonna-”

Greg shut Dean up with a kiss. It wasn’t fiery and passionate like most of their kisses- it was sweet, loving. Dean could tell Greg poured all of his love and affection into that one kiss. Dean met him, a dying man drowning in a sea of emotion. In that moment, Dean _never_ wanted to leave. He knew eventually he would have to. He just wanted to prolong the inevitable.

Greg pulled back and pecked Dean once. He swatted Dean on the ass and leered. “Go get ‘em, Tiger.”

“Dude, you’re coming with. If you think I am facing John alone after almost a year…” Dean opened the door from the hallway to the tattoo parlour. He glanced at the front door and took in his father. John was facing sideways, his profile noticeable to the boys as he walked to the door. Dean took in John’s straight-backed posture- his hands clenched behind his back. Total soldier mode. 

“Here goes nothing.” Dean smiled shakily at Greg and turned the lock. “Dad.”

Dean smiled as John turned to face the open door. He smiled at Dean briefly before his eyes took in the fact that Dean was standing there in just cargo shorts. He raised an eyebrow just as Greg stepped from the shadows. “Come in. We’ll have to cut through the shop. The house entrance is on the side.” Greg smiled at the elder Winchester. Dean did his best to ignore John’s look at Greg. Like he wanted to dissect him and find out what made him work.

“And who’s that?” John stopped in the middle of the hallway.

“Can’t you wait for five seconds?” Dean chided. “Introductions are best made _not_ in the middle of a hallway. 

“Dean…” Greg placed a hand on his lower back. Dean leaned into the gentle touch and closed his eyes.

“Sorry.” Dean opened his eyes back up and turned to John. He didn’t miss John’s pointed _you will explain this_ look. He nodded back politely. “Dad…”

Greg walked in front of the pair and opened the door to their house. It opened into a spacious living room. Dean tried to remember his thoughts when he first came. Now, there were pictures of Dean and Greg everywhere. One of Greg’s- well, now Dean’s too, one of their friends was a amatuer photographer. There was a picture of Greg and Dean at their first cookout, Greg looking at Dean like he hung the moon. The two of them in an embrace, this time Dean looking at Greg like he was the center of the Universe. Dean knew John would have a problem with those, but the one he dreaded John seeing was the photo taken a week before at their friend Sidney’s wedding. Greg and Dean were both part of the wedding party and were kissing in their matching tuxedos. Sidney had teased them that it was hard to tell who got married that day- him and Allie, or Greg and Dean. It didn’t matter that gay marriage wasn’t legal anywhere.

John visibly tensed as he took in the room. Dean’s eyes followed as he took in the _his and his_ coffee mugs from the night before, a bottle of lube on the breakfast bar and next to it sat a box of Trojan Magnum XL condoms- clearly _not_ in Dean’s size. Not that he was little- but Greg was _huge_. And Dean? Well, let’s just say he was a bit of a Size Queen. Not that they had gotten around to actually _using_ any of the condoms they bought, but still…

John stared at the photographs around the room and back to his son. Greg excused himself to the kitchen and squeezed Dean’s bicep on his way to make coffee. “ _This_ is how you’ve been living your life?” John raised an eyebrow.

“Bobby was here a few months ago. He didn’t have a problem with how I was living my life.” Dean crossed his arms.

“Bobby is _not_ your father.” John glared, his voice quiet. Dean was taken back to the day him and Sammy ran away.

“No? Cause you’re more like a Drill Sergeant than a father, _John_. But then again, we’ve had this conversation before, haven’t we?” Dean narrowed his eyes.

Greg broke the tension by thrusting a coffee mug at John. “Figured you took it black.” He stuck a hand out. “Gregory Lubois, folks just call me Greg. Mechanical Engineer, tattoo artist, and Researcher of all things Occult and Supernatural.”

Dean watched on as John studied Greg’s hand. “How do you dispose of a Wendigo?”

“Fire. Dean makes a mean homemade flame thrower.”

“How do you know it’s a werewolf?”

“Hearts missing. Generally happens around a full moon. Lore says there’s Weres that can change at will, but I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Vampire?”

“Decapitation.”

John raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Lamia.”

“Well… since one has never been seen in the States, I can’t guarantee that it works, but a silver knife blessed by a priest is generally the accepted form.”

John steeled his eyes and took a sip of his coffee. He chuckled once to himself. “Demon.”

Dean glared at his father and then Greg. He knew that his boyfriend had passed John’s test with flying colours, but they had never talked about Demons. Greg smiled and took a deep drink of his coffee. He sat his mug down on the side table and walked to the bookcase. Greg removed an old leather-bound book and opened it at the bookmark. Dean could see him take a deep breath.

“There have been no known instances of someone actually _killing_ a demon. You can trap them… Exorcise them… Even bind them in their host body. But kill? Even the Book of Solomon-” Greg held the book up that, obviously Bobby had loaned him. “-isn’t clear on the ability to kill Demons. Bobby says there’s-”

“You’ve been speaking to Bobby?” Greg nodded. “Robert Singer? Grumpy guy… trucker hat?”

“Yeah. Bobby _and_ Rufus were here in February. Hoodoo case in New Orleans. Bobby was down two weeks ago to help Dean clean up a werewolf pack in Biloxi. I can research, but I’m no Hunter. I help where I can, offer shelter and my mind. Dean brought me into this life when he came here. Bobby helps me and even started sending guys my way.”

John nodded and turned toward his son. Greg may have passed John’s test, but he still wasn’t out of the woods. Dean figured John would never have vetted the guy before he came. After all, Greg’s business was known the country over, and Hunters had been calling on recommendation of Bobby, so that’s probably how John found out. Dean smiled his best smile and stepped toward Greg. He figured they would need to be a united front against the wrath of John Winchester that was sure to come any second. Greg placed his hand on Dean’s lower back and began rubbing circles in the tense flesh. John narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

“Was there a _reason_ you came for a surprise visit, Dad?”

“Heard my boy was a _faggot_. Didn’t believe it. Wanted to see for myself why you got so _soft_.”

“I’m still Hunting.” Dean crossed his arms. “Gone most days. Just have a home to come to.”

“A home where you, what? Take it up the ass like a fairy-boy?”

“Don’t you _dare_ come in this house- say those _things_ about me. Don’t-”

“Dean. Calm down, love.” Greg whispered in Dean’s ear. He curled his arm protectively around Dean. Dean took a deep breath, unfurled his clenched fists and visibly sagged- just a little.

“Dean, I wouldn’t have come here at all if I didn’t need your help. You know all I’ve wanted for you boys is to live normal lives. You and Sam-”

“Normal lives? Sam and I have had _nothing_ like normal lives. Sam is happy though. He went on his first vacation. A real vacation for the first time ever. He’s happy and thriving at college. I have a life here- friends. A real roof over my head. Things you never gave us.”

John collapsed into the armchair behind him, his coffee cup automatically going to the table next to it. John sighed and slumped forward to cradle his head in his hands. “I messed up, Dean. I know I did.”

Greg looked at Dean, _Go to him_. Dean grimaced. He took a single step forward and shook his head when Greg pushed him toward John. Dean walked the remainder of the of the way to his dad and placed a hand on his shoulder. John looked up to Dean, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes.

“What brought you here, Dad?” Dean removed his hand and sat on the edge of the coffee table.

“I’ve got a lead on the Demon.” John looked at Greg.

“Oh, I know. Dean told me all about it one night while he was salting the doors and windows. Bobby filled me in on more. Also told me you two weren’t on speaking terms.”

“That’s cause Dad thought Bobby was trying too hard to be me and Sam’s father. But he wasn’t- he just wanted us to be stable for once. That’s all.” Dean shook his head and glanced at his dad. “Where’s the lead?”

“Upstate New York. I need you there, Dean. This _is_ the Family Business. And that means Family.” John’s posture straightened and he scrubbed his hand across his eyes.

“Stay the night, John. I’d like to get to know you better. We can grill out steak and Dean makes a mean peach pie. What do you say?”

John nodded, though Dean thought he looked resigned. And tired.

“Dad. Did you want to take a shower? Great water pressure and endless hot water. We’ve got a tankless heater. You game?” Dean stood and smiled expectantly at his father.

John smiled back. A rare thing. “Let me grab my bag. Show me where the right door is, Greg?”

**xxx**

Dean crawled into bed with Greg later that night. John and Greg had drank whisky together and talked Hunter theories. Dean was glad that John got along with Greg but he worried what John’s endgame was for being there. He was still surprisingly tightlipped about the lead he had.

Dean rolled over on top of Greg and pushed his legs apart to settle in his boyfriend’s warm embrace. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Greg kissed Dean sweetly on the lips as his hands ran up and down Dean’s back.

“Can’t a guy cuddle with his man?” Dean smirked.

“If that _guy_ says he doesn’t cuddle…” Greg smiled and pulled Dean down so his head rested on Greg’s chest above his heart. “... then, no.”

Dean whimpered. He planted open mouthed kisses on Greg’s broad, hairy chest and licked around the edge of the older man’s nipple before pulling the nub of flesh into his mouth. Greg groaned and squirmed underneath him.

“Dean…” Greg whispered. He pulled Dean by the hair and dragged him up into a searing kiss. Dean opened his mouth and allowed the older man to take control. Dean wanted to give Greg all the control. Over everything.

Dean pulled back and hooked a finger in Greg’s bikini briefs. He pulled them down, exposing his long thick cock to the muggy night air. Greg hissed as the elastic caught his head. Dean pulled Greg’s briefs off and threw his own onto the floor as well. He slowly slid his body over his boyfriend’s and straddled his hips.

“I wanna _feel_ it, baby. No prep.” Dean whispered as he grinded his hips into Greg’s. Dean bit his lip as his cock spurt precome on Greg’s and slicked up their rubbing. “Get in me.”

Greg blindly reached for the lube on the side table and Dean plucked it from his grasp as soon as he was able. He flipped the cap open and dribbled a large amount of the cool liquid onto the palm of his hand. Dean reached down and chuckled as Greg gasped from the cold feel of the lube. He wiped off the excess on their cotton sheets and grabbed Greg’s weeping cock at the base. Dean hovered over top of the older man before letting go and taking all of him in in one push.

Dean cried out as Greg split him in two. He closed his eyes to blink away the tears. Dean knew this was it. He wanted to- needed to feel. John was going to take him away in the morning. He would drag Dean away on some suicide mission, the promise of Dean returning to Greg dying on his lips as the chase lead after lead- case after case until time or death keeps them apart. Dean wasn’t stupid- no… he was very smart.

Greg gripped Dean’s hips hard enough to leave fingerprint shaped bruises for weeks. Dean met every one of Greg’s tiny thrusts with a thrust of his own. He leaned forward and melded their chests together. Dean breathed in the scent of ink and sweat. He smelled green soap and vaseline, the woodsy smell of the hickory Greg used to smoke his meat, a faint tobacco scent from himself and just Greg. Dean knew he would miss this. 

He rocked gently, setting the pace. The only sounds in the room were slight whimpers and the rhythmic slap of skin on skin. Dean buried his face in Greg’s neck and breathed. He couldn’t hold back the tears that fell from his eyes. Greg gripped him tighter, pulling him into a bear hug. Dean felt the familiar tug of orgasm on his groin and cried as he came untouched. Greg stilled as Dean’s rhythmic pulsing had him emptying his load into Dean. He placed wet, open mouthed kisses on Greg’s neck and jaw. A silent thank you.

“I love you.” Greg whispered as he gently pulled himself from Dean’s body.

“I know.” Dean closed his eyes and fell into a fitful sleep.

**xxx**

“Dean.” A voice cut through the fog. The hiss if his name and a rough calloused hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. “Get up, son. We gotta move.”

Dean blinked and looked up. The sky was still dark. John stood, looming over the King sized bed fully clothed. He rolled his eyes and untangled himself from Greg’s body. Dean pulled back the covers and stood from the bed, his naked flesh exposed to his father. He didn’t bother covering himself, John had seen him naked enough times for Dean to not be embarrassed. He did however, cover up Greg. John didn’t need to see that.

Dean scratched his abdomen, the dried come flaking off his tanned skin. He bit his bottom lip and winced as his hair was pulled. “Gimme five?” Dean questioned as he pulled his duffel from the closet. “I gotta hit the head. Plus, I fuckin’ reek.”

John nodded and left the room. Dean ran to the bathroom and closed the door. He wasn’t gonna cry. Tears flowed freely down Dean’s face as he collapsed to the floor. Dean cradled his head in his hands and let all of his emotions out. The anger at his father… at their life… His overwhelming sadness at having to leave the one man he truly loved as much as Sam… More anger at his father… The resignation he felt with each second that passed. He didn’t know how long he sat there, but eventually he rose and turned the shower on. Dean quickly scrubbed the dried come and sweat off his body. He brushed his teeth in the shower and sighed as he turned the water off and got out. 

Dean quickly dressed and threw all of his clothes in his duffel. He snagged his Reds and the zippo Greg gave him for his birthday. Dean leaned over his boyfriend and placed a light, chaste kiss on Greg’s lips. Greg stirred slightly but didn’t wake. “I love you. I think I always will. Don’t forget me.” Dean whispered and walked out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> **"Rock You Like A Hurricane"**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _It's early morning_  
>  _The sun comes out_  
>  _Last night was shaking_  
>  _And pretty loud_  
>  _My cat is purring_  
>  _And scratches my skin_  
>  _So what is wrong_  
>  _With another sin_  
>  _The bitch is hungry_  
>  _She needs to tell_  
>  _So give her inches_  
>  _And feed her well_  
>  _More days to come_  
>  _New places to go_  
>  _I've got to leave_  
>  _It's time for a show_
> 
>  
> 
> _Here I am, rock you like a hurricane_  
>  _Here I am, rock you like a hurricane_
> 
>  
> 
> _My body is burning_  
>  _It starts to shout_  
>  _Desire is coming_  
>  _It breaks out loud_  
>  _Lust is in cages_  
>  _Till storm breaks loose_  
>  _Just have to make it_  
>  _With someone I choose_  
>  _The night is calling_  
>  _I have to go_  
>  _The wolf is hungry_  
>  _He runs the show_  
>  _He's licking his lips_  
>  _He's ready to win_  
>  _On the hunt tonight_  
>  _For love at first sting_
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> _Here I am, rock you like a hurricane_  
>  _Here I am, rock you like a hurricane_  
>  _Here I am, rock you like a hurricane_  
>  _Here I am, rock you like a hurricane_


End file.
